Blowing Smoke: A Hobbit Tale
by B does the write thing
Summary: The story behind the famous hobbit who discovered Pipe Weed- Old Toby.


This is for the Toilken Read Along which you can find more about here:

For the Toilken Read Along Bingo- Prologue

I don't own or have any rights to any of Toilken's work and I am still learning the intricacies of Middle Earth- so if I have made a glaring error that is inexcusable due to my lack of knowledge- let me know and I'll appreciate it! But mostly, this is just a made up little story about our favorite Hobbit innovator- Tobold Hornblower

"Did you know you're out of mustard?"

Tobold creaked one eye open, blearily focusing on the form hovering over him.

"Go away, Willibald," he muttered; drawing the quilt over his ears, he flipped onto his side.

"Oh come on," the cheerful voice continued, "No need to be embarrassed about it. Lots of fine hobbits run out of condiments for their guests. Nothing to worry about, Toby my old friend, nothing but a quick trip down to the grocer won't fix."

"The closest grocer," grumbled Toby from under his quilt, "is in Bree."

"Oh, well that's a rather long trip. You better get up if you are going to make it before dusk."

"This isn't happening," Toby said to himself, talking into his down pillow which had been a present on his neighbor Mungo's last birthday. It still smelled a bit of the Broadbelt perchance for goat cheese but he had found he didn't mind so much.

"'Fraid it is, old hobbit," continued the irritatingly cheerful voice, "You've gone and run out of mustard and one can't have second breakfast two days in a row without mustard- it's not done."

Toby threw his quilt off, glaring at the interloper. Willibald Peatfingers was of the Fallohide breed of Hobbits- golden curls with red highlights and large gray eyes, he had a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and a perpetual grin that invited one to ask what the joke was.

He was the most annoying hobbit Tobold Hornblower had ever had the displeasure to meet.

They were very good friends.

"Why are you eating my food again, Willy?" Toby asked, swinging his legs from under the comforter, stretching his toes on the rug beside his bed (a gift from Myrtle Loamsdown on her 50th birthday) and stretched his back out, grimacing at the pops and cracks it made.

"Something on your face," Willy noted- gesturing at him with a slice of ham. "Best go wash it off before Tigerlilly sees."

"It's my beard, Willy," Toby sighed. He reached a hand up to scratch the wiry black hair that covered his cheeks and chin, the coarse hair rasping in the morning air. Willy pulled a face.

"It's a batch of bristles, I can't believe your misses kisses you like that."

"Better than having to smooch that dirt covered face of yours, Willy," called a voice from the door. Toby twisted his head to see his wife Tigerlilly standing in the round doorway to the bedroom, Berylla propped on her hip and drooling happily around her teething toy.

"Cheers, Lilly!" Willy called, using his pet name. Tigerlilly arched her eyebrow at him.

"Waltzing in here and just taking food from the pantry- don't they feed you at that hole of yours?" Berylla had noticed Willy and was leaning towards him happily, Toby stood and walked towards the water basin under the window frame.

"Nah, keep saying something about leave and never darken our door again- odd lot my family, don't ya think? By the way- did ya know you were out of mustard, Lilly?"

"Honestly, Toby!" Tigerlilly exclaimed, and he ducked his face in the cold water, submerging his whole head before popping back up, soaked and dripping. "Couldn't you do something about this – wait, what are you doing….no you stay right where you are- or I'll-"

He never found out exactly what she would have done because with a mighty shake of his head, Toby shook out the dripping water from his black curls and beard, like a wet dog.

He heard shouting and threats emanating from the hall which Tigerlilly had rushed down, pots banging and clanging and a delighted shrieking from Berylla at the pandemonium. He turned his eyes toward Willy who was still seated on the chest by the bed.

"Best bread in Southfarthing," he proclaimed happily through the huge chunk of bread in his mouth, "Don't know how she does it."

Toby shook out his morning jacket, and pulled it around his shoulders. He went out the doorway and down the hall towards the kitchen, ignoring the babble emanating from the hobbit behind him.

Tigerlilly gave him a baleful eye but deposited Berylla on his lap before going back to the cooking of bacon and eggs. Willy settled himself at the table, making faces at Berylla and doing his usual commentary on everything in the Shire.

"And I tell you the Burrows of Tuckbourough- you know the ones, can't find their hobbit hole in the dark even with a lantern- said to the Roundbottoms-"

Toby ate his meal in peace, holding his daughter in one hand and flipping through the letters stacked on the table when he had a free hand. On a rather large cream colored envelope, his hand stilled and he heard Willibald's rattle stumble for a moment before it continued louder than before.

"And I told him, Lilly my girl, I said- best bread in the Shire isn't from the Whitfurrows! No, sir, I said, you go down to the Tobold house and you get some of Tigerlilly's bread, I did. She's a right star, our Southern Lilly is, I said-"

"Toby?"

He looked up to see Tigerlilly holding the frying pan, eyes locked on the envelope, uncertainty and fear settling in her brown eyes. He smiled tightly up at her, adjusting Berylla who was trying to get at the fork and shook his head.

"Nothing, my dear," he soothed, taking her hand holding the dishtowel and raising it to his lips in a kiss. The fear didn't leave her eyes and she flicked her gaze to their front door, the mustard yellow glowing in the morning sunlight.

Four notices now, four notices from the Thrain to come in for a meeting.

Tigerlilly's dowry had included her parent's home, left to her when her older brother Popo had been struck in the head by a horse down at Bree. They had lived there happily these past ten years, raising their children and tending their small garden out back when Popo's widow had started to want to get her old home back.

She had moved out willingly, old Ruby had, eager to move back to the comforts and ease of mansion living with her relatives. She had taken all her silver and brass, her furniture and down mattress- leaving them the bones of the old place. They were happily at home. Until Ruby had gotten tired of living with other Tooks and decided to reclaim her old home.

Toby knew the Thrain would be fair but in agreeing to go to the meeting, he ran the risk of the Thrain siding with his relative and asking Toby to move out. And where would they go then? The smial was small but quaint and no other hills in the area had any open burrows- they would be forced to move out and into a house on the flats.

"So, that's that then!"

Toby turned his head to his friend who was beaming at him, jam smeared on the side of his mouth. Berylla had managed to get one of the pieces of bacon and was crumbling it gleefully in her hands.

"That's what?" He managed, handing Berylla over to her mother who still had the uncomfortable haunted look on her face that looks so off putting on hobbits. Hobbits are meant to be happy and at ease- fear and uncertainty sits ill on their features. Berylla felt her unease and started to wail at once.

"Togo!" Toby bellowed, "Get in here and take Berylla from your mother!"

A young hobbit lad scampered in and held his hands up, waiting for the baby. Tigerlilly ruffled his dark curls that were so like his father's and handed the girl down. He swaddled her in his arms and backed out of the kitchen, muttering nonsense under his breath at the baby who was now calming down.

"Best be going then!" Willy crowed, snatching the last piece of bacon off Toby's plate. "Don't want to get caught out after dark!"

Toby found his hat perched on his head and his walking stick firmly in hand before he could finish his last bite of toast; he was on his own doorstep, Willy closing the door behind them and small children noises echoing down the hall.

"Don't worry so much, my darling girl!" Willy laughed, waving a long list behind him like a kite's tail. "I have your list right here and it's a perfect day for a trip to Bree. I'll have him back to you by tomorrow evening and I'll send Rosie down to help you the little ones while we're away! Ta!"

Toby narrowed his black eyes at his friend who was pushing past him, the long grocer list flapping in the wind.

"You have no intention of going to Bree with me," he noted. He stepped off his porch and felt a slight moment of hesitation; he could just go back in and wait for another day to take the trip. Tigerlilly was upset as was and he wasn't sure if he should leave her alone with her worry-

"Nonsense!" Willy cried out from ahead of him, "I have every intention on seeing you to the Brandywine Bridge!"

"And then off to Rosie's, I suppose." Toby grumbled, following his friend down the lane.

"Of course! What kind of suitor would I be if I didn't stop in and woo my lady lovely?" Willy kept his sprightly pace; waving at the hobbits they passed. The Stoorish of the Southfarthing narrowed their eyes at the carping of the Fallohides of the West but most knew Willy by sight and acknowledged he was a good enough lad- just a bit different.

"I really don't know why we let you in the hole," Toby sighed. He looked up at the clear blue sky and set his shoulders, he trod on after his friend. He supposed it was a fine day as any to go to Bree.

"Curse that Willibald, that horrid Peatfinger of Brockenboring!" Toby growled. He was wet, cold, sneezing and wrapped in a blanket that smelled of horsehide.

He had spent a perfectly fine, uneventful day traveling to Bree and had stayed the night at the Prancing Pony, before he had gone out this morning to the local grocer and buying a small cart's worth of food to stock up the Hornblower pantry but on his way home- a sudden storm had blown up from the east and he had been forced to take shelter in the hills of southern Bree.

A kind hobbit family, the Knotwises, had given him shelter and food and the horsey blanket and were sitting in their home and talking quietly by the fireplace. It was a small home but mathoms and trinkets were strewn half haphazardly and the family was prone to stepping over them like they weren't even there- Toby had stubbed his toe, fallen over himself twice, and stepped on several items already.

He sneezed again, drawing the blanket closer around him.

"Care for a pipe?" asked the little old hobbit, the father of the Mrs. Knotwise who had come to live with the family as he aged on. He was wizened and short, white patches of fuzz on his cheeks but he had bright gray eyes and was peeping up at Toby from his seated chair.

Toby settled himself down on the sofa next to the old hobbit, "Pipe?"

"Yes, yes, care for a pipe? You aren't too old to have hearing problems, Master Hornblower, surely?"

"I'm simply unaware of what a pipe is, good Father, is it a type of sweet?"

The hobbit laughed his chuckles wheezy but loud. His daughter turned to look at him and shook her head from her knitting, "Da, don't be rude to the guests. He's a Shire-folk, they don't have Pipe Weed."

Toby, curious, leaned forward to find the older hobbit had taken out a clay object, long stemmed leading into a small hollow bowl at the bottom. It was blackened around the edges of the bowl and it was old, and much used.

"Don't get many Shire folks around these parts anymore," the old hobbit sighed, reaching for a box on the table between them. "But I suppose we Bree folks don't go out of our way to go over yonder either. Pity. Do be a lad and fetch me the tinder box over by my daughter- ah thank you."

Toby sat back and watched as the old hobbit, plucked a few dried herbs from the box, scattered them in the hollow bowl and lit them on fire with his match box. A sweet, dry and cloying smell rose up from the bowl and the old hobbit put his lips to the stem and inhaled deeply before exhaling in a long, drawn out breath.

Toby was astonished to see rings of smoke puff from between the hobbit's lips, four in a row before disappearing against the roof of the room.

"Pipe Weed, you said?" Toby asked in wonder, as the older hobbit handed him the pipe and instructed him how to breathe in but not inhale the smoke and then release it after it had a minute to sit and tingle the roof his mouth.

The two spent hours talking over the herbs, which the elder hobbit had found as a young lad in the south hills of Bree and had taken to collecting and smoking – "Why I was freezing one night and had grabbed a large amount of wood that I had stored out back and hadn't noticed my dear old Posy had gathered some of those sweet smelling herbs that grow out in the field and laid them to dry on the logs! Well, I threw the logs and the herbs in the fire and it smoked up the place but good! I took a deep breath in before I could get out the door, and I was buzzing for days after that- I tell you. Posy thought I was off my rocker, going out and getting those herbs, drying them and smoking them- said I was a foolish hobbit and if I died she was going to marry that Burrowman down the lane."

He smiled, memories of his Posy drifting over him in the twilight and Toby felt a pang for Tigerlilly. He had meant to be home by now and was worried what the unexpected delay would mean to his wife. His Tigerlilly tended to worry more than she ought.

"And after that, me and the men folk over at the Prancing Pony came up with these pipes here- old Butterbur laughed himself hoarse the first time we tried them out, half of them didn't work right and it wasn't until Jasper figured out the longer the stem, the less smoke you take in at once- we finally got the art of it down."

Toby's evening passed, he wasn't able to master the art of blowing smoke rings but he had a few solid attempts and he was pleasantly relaxed as his host excused himself for bed. He fingered the long clay pipe for a moment before drifting off, the storm outside still going on and dreams of his Tigerlilly dancing in his head.

The next morning as he thanked his hosts for their hospitality, they presented him with a wooden pipe and a wooden box. "Go out towards the left and you'll come to the hills where they grow, gather a pinch and take them home to the Shire, safe journeys!"

Toby did as he was instructed but when he came to the hill; a moment's fancy stopped him as the sweet smell of the flowers after the rain bloomed before him. He thought of the way Tigerlilly loved her garden and how she always smiled when he had brought her flowers during their courtship.

He took a small knife out of his pack and dug up the closest herb, roots and all and planted in tenderly in the empty wooden box. He could always come back and get some more with Willy- today, he had thoughts only for his wife and her smile.

As it happens, old Toby came home and he and Tigerlilly planted the herb in their garden and tended to it. Without quite knowing how, they soon had a large section of their garden overtaken by the herb but it was such a sweet smelling flower, Tigerlilly just laughed and moved her vegetables to the other side of the house. When fall came, Toby went out with Togo and picked the flowers and laid them out to dry on their front step.

The next evening, a solemn knock on the door interrupted their evening routine.

Opening the door, it revealed a most unexpected guest- the Thrain himself, standing rather unhappily on their porch, a glowering Ruby behind him.

"Mr. Hornblower," the Thrain rumbled, holding his hand out in greeting. "I am-"

"He knows you are!" Snapped Ruby, and pushing past her grand relative she entered the hall, stomping her feet, flecks of mud splattering the wiped floors Tigerlilly had worked so hard on that morning. "You have a bunch of weeds littering the front porch and they are making me sneeze!" she announced, before continuing on," Now where's Tigerlilly?"

"Down the hall-," he started but Ruby was marching on, disappearing around the corner, making herself at home. He felt his stomach twist and he turned to look at the elder hobbit beside him who looked most uncomfortable.

"Can I offer you some tea?" Toby asked, gesturing to the kitchen and dining area. The Thrain nodded gratefully and followed him in.

It was a quick story- the Thrain explained Ruby was making life quite unpleasant for everyone at the Took Hall and how in Shire law- the widow was to receive the property and while she had moved out and given it to Tigerlilly for her dowry- she hadn't written it or signed anything to make it legal.

The smial was Ruby's in the eyes of the Shire.

Toby sighed, reaching his hand to his pocket, he withdrew his pipe, and in a rehearsed manner- indeed he had taken to smoking most evenings and this was the last of his dried pipe weed from his recent trip to Bree with Willy, and he lit up and inhaled deeply in the middle of the Thrain's apology for the situation.

"What is that?" The Thrain suddenly said, and Toby looked up to see the wide eyed look as the Thrain watched the smoke ring (Toby had been practicing) disappear down the hall.

"Pipe weed," Toby answered, handing the pipe over to the Thrain and directing him to breathe in but not inhale, "I just started growing it out in the garden, picked it this morning. Can send some back with you this evening, if you'd like."

It was over an hour later that Ruby stomped down the hall in a rage, Berylla had been sick on her and Tigerlilly had been in such a state of worry, she had laughed despite herself.

"Are you quite done with this-"she stormed in raging, before abruptly sneezing.

"Bless you, my dear," The Thrain said absently, taking another inhale.

"What in the world?" She hissed, eyes watering as the two hobbits contently blew smoke rings at her from the kitchen table.

"Pipe Weed, Ruby," the Thrain smiled, "Toby here is growing it, and I've just been talking to him about starting up a bit of a business with it."

"Well, he'll have to do it somewhere else!" She snarled but sneezed halfway through it, "this is my home and I want him and this terrible stuff out!"

Toby leaned back in his chair and blew a rather large smoke ring, the circle perfectly fitting itself to her face as it blew past her down the hall. She coughed and snarled and stomped her foot, a claw of a finger coming to point at him when the Thrain spoke.

"Actually, Ruby, the plant is quickly taking over the garden and it seems you are rather allergic to it. You won't be able to live here at all with those growing wild outside! Imagine the pocket handkerchiefs you'll go through in a week alone!"

Ruby's eyes narrowed but a sneezing fit overtook her and she was forced to leave them and go down the hall, sneezing and muttering before a large bang indicated she had let herself out.

"Better be off," the Thrain said regretfully, handing the clay pipe he had borrowed (Willy usually left a spare around), " Best make sure she gets back to the manor in one piece. I'll be in contact about setting up a shop for that wonderful discovery of yours and I'll send my boys Willow and Brillow over this week – they're very interested in wood carvings- may help you make some pipes and such. Pipe Weed, glorious stuff."

And he let himself out, leaving Tobold Hornblower sitting at his kitchen table with his feet up and blowing smoke rings into the air, his family's laughter ringing down the halls.

He wasn't to know of course, but he was about to become a very famous Hobbit.


End file.
